


India, India, Listen to My Plea

by andthemoondogs



Series: Two of Us [1]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthemoondogs/pseuds/andthemoondogs
Summary: Wanting to be free like he's been learning about in India, John tries to take his and Paul's relationship to the next level.





	1. India, India, Listen to My Plea

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration with https://m0rning-moon.tumblr.com!

It had been bugging him now for days, but he'd yet to say anything. He was trying to focus on the course, on the meditation and the peace the maharishi claimed to offer. The only thing he could think of, though, was Paul. Not that that was unusual, but it was... _inconvenient_ to say the least. Especially with Cynthia and Jane there. The pair had little to no time together and it was only making John more anxious. He wanted to come clean, to be FREE like the maharishi kept talking about. He knew there was only one way to do that. So he waited outside Paul's room for him to come out from his meditation, without Jane.  
  
  
As Paul stepped out of his room after another session of meditation, he definitely did feel lighter. He wasn't quite at the level George and some of the others seemed to be at, though, but the Maharishi assured him time and time again that it was not a race - he should do things in his own time.

"How was your meditation?" he asked with a smile, curious, but also stalling from what he really wanted to say.

In a relaxed state of mind, it took him a few seconds to register that John was there, speaking to him. When he did, though, he returned the smile he was given. "Yeah, good. Getting better, I think. Hard to tell," he said, honestly. "Wanna come in?"

That smile. God, he was no better than some school girl around Paul. He nodded, "Yeah. " He followed Paul into his room and took in the surroundings. Basically identical to the room he and Cynthia shared. What would Cynthia even say if she knew the truth? He pushed the thought out of his head and focused instead on Paul. His tongue slipped out over his lips and he felt NERVOUS. Not unlike the way he'd felt when this all started.

Paul went straight for a little handmade bag he'd purchased in a little street market somewhere, fishing inside it for his pack of cigarettes. He tried to stay away from them, he really did, but it was too hard a habit to kick so abruptly.

"Been meaning to talk to you about something. Suppose now's as good a time as ever... getting pure and right and what not," John stalled for a moment, looking into Paul's eyes. Or maybe he was distracted by them. He couldn't rightly tell. "I think you and me should be exclusive," he finally said. "It's just not the same with anyone else. Doesn't do it for me like you do," he adds with a grin, hoping to sway Paul.

John was speaking somewhere behind him. Paul listened with his back turned, as he took out one cigarette for each of them.

_I think you and me should be exclusive._

Out of sheer nervousness, a little laugh escaped him. "Sorry, what?" He asked, one cigarette hanging from his lips and the other in his hand, which he held out for John.

John took the offered cigarette, hand shaking a bit, though he'd deny it, of course. He quickly put the cig in between his lips as if it would stop him from speaking. It did not. "Exclusive. You and me. Fuck everyone else. It's you and me. It's always been that way. I think it's time to be who we really are."

John's stomach was in knots. He loved Paul with all his heart, and he knew paul loved him the same way. It only made sense. So what if it wasn't the "norm." They'd never been normal. That's what made them who they were.

The remnants of a smile fell from Paul's face as he studied the other's. He was dead serious - nothing about his expression told him anything else. His heart thundered inside his chest as he realised that this was happening. Fuck, he should have known this day would come. And... honestly, maybe somewhere deep inside, he did. John was unbelievably jealous - had always been, his reactions ranging from full on acts of violence to passive-aggressiveness and just plain rudeness.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times and nothing useful coming out, Paul finally spoke. "John, love, you can't be--" He looked out the window. "We can't. You know that."

"Yes we can, " he argued, not unlike a child. "We're the fucking Beatles, we can do whatever the fuck we want and it'll be accepted and fine, " he said. He'd known Paul would be a bit hesitant, but he didn't care. This had to happen. **They** had to happen. They were in love. That's what people in love do. They become exclusive with one another, and for John of all people to ask for exclusivity, well... that had to tell Paul something right there.

"We can and you know it," he said again, dangerously close to pouting as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag, offering the light to Paul.

Paul took the lighter with embarrassingly shaky hands. He fumbled with lighting his cigarette - in part because of his trembling hands and in part to make time to collect his thoughts and translate them in a way that John would understand.

Christ, it pained him so much to have to turn John down. The love he felt for the other man was unlike anything else he'd experienced his entire life - but out of the two of them, Paul knew he had to be the adult. He'd always been the adult: with his brother, with the band, with John. It was just his role in life, it seemed.

Once the cigarette was lit and there was no more delaying his response, Paul took a drag and finally spoke, voice soft, so as not to upset the man he loved. "John," he began, patting the bed next to him for John to sit. "It's not that I don't want to. But it's just... dangerous, y'know? Who knows what people might do to us if we... became public."

 

John took a seat, despite himself. Patience wasn't ever something he'd had an abundance of and when Paul's answer wasn't immediately what he wanted, he could feel the anger rising. Why could Jane have him but he couldn't? It wasn't FAIR. He knew Paul was right, but the rational side of his brain was overtaken by the irrational one. He stood almost immediately after sitting, pacing in front of his lover.

"It'd be no more bloody dangerous than it already is. Things are different now than they were back when we started this. We'd be accepted because we're the fucking Beatles. " John repeated it because it was true. It seemed they could overcome anything, so why not this? He was shaking more than he wanted to admit, his gut feeling like a rock was sitting in it. Did Paul not love him anymore? He took another long drag on his cigarette, angrily puffing out the smoke in a huff.

"Of course it would," Paul said. He thought of bringing Brian up, but the wound of his death was still too fresh, so he left it. There were many ways in which this could go very wrong, so it took him less than a second to come up with something else to say. "What about Cyn, then? Jules? They'd be devastated."

"Cyn would be fine," he said, waving it off. He truthfully didn't care what she'd say about him and Paul. What mattered was him and Paul. "And Jules loves you. Why would that change?" he asked, stopping his pacing directly in front of Paul. "This is about me, isn't it? You're embarrassed of me. All that talk about you need me in your life forever---it was all shit, wasn't it?" he spat, his anger speaking now, not his true feelings. He couldn't stop himself, though.

Paul was about to say something about how it wasn't about Julian but about the shit he'd have to hear about his dad if this ever did happen, but then John stood up and began pacing, heating up. This was exactly how Paul feared this would go, and quite frankly, he didn't quite feel ready to deal with it.

"John--no," he said, reaching out to grab the other man's wrist. "It's not about that. Of course I'm not embarrassed of you. It's about our safety. Ours, our families' - this could fuck everything up, love."

John snatched his wrist from Paul, anger all over his face. "Safety, right," he scoffed, mind only focused on ONE thing---Paul had said **no**. "Everything you said to me all these years, it was all a fucking lie! Because if it wasn't, and it was true, you wouldn't be turning me down. You'd be praising me saying what a great idea it was. Who the fuck cares that we're two men? The world is different now, Paul, you're not listening. The world is ready for us. _I'm_ ready for us. So why the fuck aren't you?" he spat once more, lifting a shaking hand to take another, much needed, drag from his cigarette.

Paul tried to stay calm. He really did. But John made it so hard - he was being clear, reasonable, he knew that he was. He was so careful about every word, so gentle, but it was as if John simply wasn't listening. 

He took a drag of his cigarette, staying on the bed, as he watched John furiously pace around. His hands were shaking, his face was red. Paul had no idea how to pull him back (and in his experience, it hardly ever worked), but he had to try. "Look, we've made it work so far the way things are now, haven't we? Why not just... stick with it?"

"Because I fucking want MORE!" he exclaimed loudly. "I'm tired of sneaking around, of avoiding the cameras, avoiding everyone. I wanna walk around in public holding your hand. I wanna kiss you when I fucking feel like it! I'm tired of this bullshit! Of this hiding! We're not school boys with a crush, Paul, I love you. I want to be with you in every way! I'm tired of pretending I don't!" he said, voice raised. 

John’s face was flushed red now, and his entire body was visibly shaking. He was laying it all on the line for Paul and he was being shot down. John's hands clenched into fists by his side. He was seething. why couldn't Paul see his point of view?

Paul felt as though as his heart was being ripped from his fucking chest. He understood John - God, how many times had they held hands underneath conference tables, sneaked out to a bathroom in the middle of social functions just to be with each other, done everything to make sure they always stayed together in hotel rooms whenever they were on tour? It was maddening. It wasn't easy. But there was just no other way - it was useless to fantasize about it, and even more useless to bring it up. The worst part was that John knew all of that - he had to. Why did he have to make things so much more difficult for the both of them?

"John, please, lower your voice," was all Paul could bring himself to say. "People are gonna--" he sighed deeply, "--I'm sorry, John. We can't."

The words and the conviction they were spoken with was like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, John felt like he couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be fucking happening. John stood there like a bump on a log, chest heaving. It felt like an eternity before he could speak, and when he finally did, all he could manage was, "Fuck you." 

He could feel tears stinging his eyes, threatening to fall, but he was determined not to cry in front of Paul. Not right now. His mind flashed back to his favorite moments with Paul and it only made this hurt worse. Before he could even begin to think about what he was saying, words spilled from his lips. "You're a fucking cunt. You just don't want to because you and I both know we fucking can. "

 

John's eyes were dark as he spoke those hurtful words. Paul had heard them before, time and time again, but this time they cut deeper, like daggers. This time, it felt like John actually meant them. 

Paul stood up, and when he did, he could see the tears in John's eyes. John instinctively took a step back. He even recoiled from his touch. The touch that he would kill for. The touch he so longed for. Paul felt a knot in his own throat, which he promptly swallowed. "John-- no, I-- I want to, we just can't," he said, placing a gentle hand on John's bicep. "You're not thinking clearly."

"Don't fucking tell me I'm not thinking clearly. I am. we can do this. People love us. They'll love us together. Please, Paul..." he pleaded.

John had squirmed away from his touch, Paul felt helpless. He didn't think there was another way to let John know what he felt, what he meant, if not with touch. Words didn't do it justice - they betrayed him, the rational side of his brain took over. But John wasn't a rational person - he was all emotion, and damn it if it wasn't one of the things Paul loved the most about him. 

Moments like these made Paul wish he'd never fallen for John. His heart was in pieces, as he watched the other man plead with him. Every bone in Paul's body begged him to say yes, but he couldn't.

"John..." He whispered, drawing in a shaky breath. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he fought and fought to keep them in. "I-I'm so sorry."

John just stood there, torn between falling on his knees and destroying the room. He felt like he was drowning. He was so sure this conversation would’ve gone another direction---a better direction. Slowly, his head shook. The tears fell now, but he was so angry, he snarled. "Fucking cunt," he repeated through clenched teeth. 

He grabbed the nearest thing, a vase, and chucked it at the wall. "I can't believe you, Paul. I thought you loved me. I really fucking did. Clearly I was wrong. "

"John!" Paul shouted, flinging himself at the other man, grabbing both of his wrists in an attempt to stop him from damaging anything else. Anticipating a struggle on John's part, Paul held on tightly, trying to keep him under control. He was fully aware that by doing this he was placing himself in the way of danger, but he just wanted John to stop. There was a very big chance that someone would hear them, and in the state John was in, it was very likely that he'd spill the truth to whoever wanted to liste. John struggled against Paul's grip. It was tight enough to keep him in check. He didn't want to hurt Paul though. He carried around enough guilt from Stu. He certainly didn't need to add Paul to that.

"Stop it, John," Paul pleaded, heart in as many pieces as the vase as he witnessed tears spilling freely from John's eyes.

John finally broke free from Paul's grip, turning around and grabbing handfuls of his own hair as he let out a loud grunt of frustration. 

"You can't just do this! You can't do this to me, Macca, you fucking can't. We're supposed to be together, you can't turn your back on me . Is that really what you want? To walk away from me? Well fucking fine. I'll do it for you," he growled out, flinging the door open to find Jane standing there, mouth open, hand reaching for the door knob. She had probably heard everything. 

"Paul?" she asked, clearly wanting answers.


	2. Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and John share heated words about their relationship in India and we discover the real reason he left India early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a collaboration with https://m0rning-moon.tumblr.com!

Paul looked frantically between his two lovers. "Jane, love, I--" He darted towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder in a gesture that was supposed to be calming but ended up far from that, as he shot John a furious look that clearly spelled **DON'T**.

"What is he talking about?" She demanded, eyes flickering over to John, then back to her boyfriend.

"What am I talking about?” John interjected. “You don't know? You mean to tell me you really don't know how Paulie here likes it up the arse? I'm supposed to believe that?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. She had to know, but here she was, playing dumb. 

John looked back at Paul and shook his head. "Think about me when you're fucking her, just like always, yeah?" he spat, walking out the door, pushing past Jane, shoulder bumping hers as he stormed off down the hallway, feet stomping with every step like a child whose favorite toy got taken away.

"John, _enough_!" The bassist shouted after John as he stormed outside. Again, Paul looked between the two, mouth opening and closing uselessly. This was just like John - if he couldn't have what he wanted, then he would make life living hell for whoever denied him. But Paul was not willing to let that happen. "He's angry at me and spouting nonsense," he told Jane, inwardly praying that she would buy it. "I'm so sorry, luv. Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head weakly, although she clutched her shoulder where John had just knocked past her. "Good. I'm so sorry. Stay in here, yeah? I'll go sort things out with him," he said, placing a gentle but hurried kiss on her forehead as he chased after John.

John headed to a small, secluded garden area that he had Paul had frequented during their trip and sat on one of the stone benches. Remembering he was still holding a cigarette, he took a long drag, smoke curling around him. Away from the prying eye, his tears fell freely, his heart in pieces. Hopefully, he'd fucked things up with Jane. Maybe then Paul would see who was right for him - who had always been right for him. He could only hope that Paul would chase after him. On the off chance that he would, John quickly dried his tears, sniffling a little as he finished the cigarette, wishing he'd brought his guitar.

Part of Paul knew very well that by going after John he was giving him exactly what he wanted, but he justified it to himself with _what if he goes and tells someone else? You have to stop him_. He hurried towards where he figured John would go - a secluded little garden they'd coined as their spot for the duration of the trip, passing horrified-looking Maharishi alumni on the way. 

Once there, he wasted no time before placing himself right in front of where John sat, bending over to be at eye-level with him. "Are you fucking out of your mind?! Do you know what you just fucking _did_?!" He asked furiously, albeit in a hushed tone - he wanted to fucking scream, but unlike John, he was capable of thinking before acting.

"Told her what she should've already known," he said, voice calm for the moment. maybe this meditation stuff was helping after all. "The world's still spinning, isn't it? That's what happens, Paul. The world keeps on spinning. just like it will when we announce that you and I are whatever the hell we are," he said, looking away from Paul. He was **HURT**. His heart, **BLEEDING**. Paul wanted nothing to do with them it seemed, and John wanted everything.

"What's it matter anyway? You've made it clear you're not interested ," he quipped, flicking the cigarette butt over Paul's shoulder, looking back, eyes meeting the bassist's gaze. If Paul knew anything about John (and let's face it, he surely did), he would notice the fear, pain, and anger in John's eyes.

When John flung ashes over his shoulder, Paul had to clench his jaw and pull his hands into fists to keep from resorting to violence. "You can't just--" He stopped himself, as his voice rose a little bit too much in volume. He took a deep breath. "I didn't give you permission to say that shit to her. How the _fuck_ am I supposed to come back from that?!"

"She'll believe you over me any day," he said nonchalantly. "And I don't need permission from you to speak what's on me mind," he said dryly. "Never have, never will." he added the last line with a smart ass smirk and moved to stand. He wanted to be away from Paul, even though he didn't want him to leave ever. It was complicated to say the very least. "Follow me out here just to tell me I don't have your permission to speak, did you?"

"Yes, you fucking do," Paul said, stepping impossibly closer to John. "Where it concerns me - you _absolutely_ fucking do."

It felt as though as John was testing him - testing to see how much he could get away with until Paul lost it. He wanted to see him unhinged, one way or another. And, unfortunately for the younger, he felt very close to getting there. "Don't you ever pull shit like that again, you hear me? _Ever_ ," he said, pupils blown and hands balled into fists at his sides.

Never one to back down from a fight, John held his stance, back straightening a little as fists clenched tightly. If Paul wanted a fucking fight, he'd give him one---or would he? He really had no idea what was going to happen next. Not that that was unusual for the guitarist. John needed this, though. He needed this level of authority from Paul. It's what kept him in check. John took a deep breath, his own fists unclenching and he took a step back. He really didn't want to hurt Paul. How could he live with himself if he truly hurt him, the love of his life? 

"You don't wanna do this, Macca," John said quietly, the nickname slipping over his lips. "Trust me." The truth of the matter, though, was that _John_ didn't want to do this.

Without realising it, Paul straightened his back as well, using the couple of inches he had on John to his advantage, pointedly staring him down. John was right - he really shouldn't fucking do this. A physical fight would only make matters much, _much_ worse. So, instead of following through with it, Paul sucked in a deep breath and took a step back, keeping his eyes trained on the older man. "Don't tell anyone else. _Please_." He forced himself to say the last word and it was quite clear in his tone.

John looked up at Paul, a scowl on his face. He found himself letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as Paul took a step back. John nodded curtly. There was only one person in the entire fucking world that he would listen to and he was standing in front of him.

He still didn't understand why Paul didn't want to tell everyone. As far as John was concerned, he wanted to shout out his love for the younger man from the top of every mountain he could climb. He wanted everyone to know that he loved Paul with all his heart and soul. Why didn't Paul want the same thing?

"Guess this is it, then..." John said quietly. "I knew it was too good to last."

John's words might as well have been a knife twisting in his stomach. "John-- _no_ ," Paul said, shaking his head. The knot in his throat was back, he found. "It doesn't have to end, we just can't--" He lowered his voice, although he knew no one else was around. "I can't give you what you're asking of me. I can't." He reached his hand out, letting it land on John's arm. "We've made it work so far. There's no reason why it should have to end."

He didn't pull away from Paul's touch, but his eyes fell on it for a moment as though considering it. "I would give the entire fucking universe for you, Paul. I'd give you anything. Guess this truly shows where we stand..." He didn't want it to end, but how could it go on? Knowing Paul wasn't in this the way John was? "It can't go on like this and you know it."

As Paul's eyes clouded over with tears, everything became a blur. He couldn't believe this was happening - of all the things he considered his and John's relationship to be, _strong_ stood out in his mind. Surely, strong enough to endure anything. It didn't seem real to him that in the blink of an eye the entire thing could crumble to the ground - fuck, they made it through Cyn's pregnancy, John getting married, the near constant surveillance they found themselves under during their touring years, countless other women, reckless abuse of drugs, and they couldn't make it through _this_? And what was this, anyway? Nothing had seemed off to Paul previously; they hadn't fought, everything was fine. It simply didn't make sense for John to suddenly decide to jeopardize their entire relationship over... what, jealousy? Possessiveness? It simply made no sense. And it hurt - it really fucking hurt.

"John, please," Paul found himself saying, accompanied by warm tears streaming down his face, which he promptly wiped away. "Don't do this. Please."

John looked away hurriedly, back of his hand wiping away his own tears. He didn't want this to end, either, but he felt he had no choice. "How can it go on? There's no future, apparently. What's the point?" he said, his emotions getting the better of him, as always. If he'd been thinking with his head, he'd know what the point was--- to keep Paul close. But his heart was SCREAMING and BLEEDING and he couldn't control the words flowing from his mouth. "I can't do it knowin’ you don't feel the same." Even though, deep down, John knew Paul felt the same, he was still in shock that he wouldn't want to expose their relationship. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He sniffled before turning back to look at Paul, his heart breaking into pieces all over again.

"But I _do_ ," Paul said, voice breaking. When John turned back to him, he boldly took a step towards him, reaching out a shaky hand to cup the side of his face. "I do. I love you so fucking much, John." The pad of his thumb stroked over John's wet cheek, uselessly wiping away tears that just kept on coming. "Don't do this to me." He shook his head. "To us."

"But you _don't_ \- because if you did, you'd want this for us, " he snipped back, though he found himself leaning into the touch. He straightened up and pulled his head away from Paul's hand. "It's not going to be the same now. I want more than you can give. You can call me a selfish bastard all you want, but I'm not going to budge. I want to tell the world how much I fucking love you, but you don't feel the same about me," he argued.

At this point, Paul had lost all of his ability to argue. He was weak - the threat of losing John forever took _everything_ out of him. There was no way he could bear to live a normal life in that way. There simply was _no life_ without John.

His eyes were red now, pale cheeks covered in tears. He couldn't hold them back any longer. "Don't do this. Please," was all that Paul could bear to say, over and over. And if he were a good man, he would say yes - he would give John what he so wanted; what they _both_ wanted. But as it were, he wasn't - no, he was a _monster_ who was capable of breaking the heart of a man he had loved his entire life over a fear of being disapproved of by millions of people who did not matter to him _half_ as much as John did.

John didn't answer right away, he was **BROKEN**. He felt like he might be sick. Everything was hurting, his head pounding. He needed to get away from all of this right now. He shook his head and stepped back. "I need some time." He didn't know what to say, what to do. He wanted to RUN.

He looked at Paul's face, stained with tears that still flowed. His own were still falling. This was far too much to take in. He thought india would be something special for them, something amazing. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was leave when he'd been so eager to come here in the first place.

His stomach turned and he shifted his weight on his feet, uncomfortable in front of Paul for the first time. “I need time," he repeated, turning away from Paul. He couldn't look at him. He couldn't see the way his heart broke. He couldn't fucking do it. He had nothing else to say besides the fact that Paul was a _cunt_ , but he'd already said it twice, surely he knew he'd meant it. "I gotta get out of here," he said, mostly to himself, feeling suddenly panicked. Everything had changed and he wasn't sure what that meant. He had to get Cynthia and get the fuck out of this place. He couldn't stay another minute.

"John," Paul called after him uselessly. He wanted to follow him; he wanted to grab John's arm and lead them both the fuck out of there, out of anywhere they were anything other than just _them_. For the first time in so many years, all he wanted was to run away. To be nobody. To be alone with John, just the two of them and fuck the rest of the world.

He didn't, though. All Paul could do was stay where he was and watch John leave. His knees gave under the weight of being robbed of the thing that, he would soon find out, mattered the most in his life, and he fell onto the stone bench John had just been sitting on, burying his head in his hands as he let himself cry.


End file.
